Away over the dark, wild waves of the rolling Atlantic-away beyond the summer islands of the Western Ind-lies a lovely land. Its surface-aspect carries the hue of the emerald; its sky is sapphire; its sun is a globe of gold. It is the land of Anahuac The tourist turns his face to the Orient-the poet sings the gone glories of Greece-the painter elaborates the hackneyed pictures of Apennine and Alp-the novelist turns the skulking thief of Italy into...